


The Mysteries of Midge

by VintageManniqueen



Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageManniqueen/pseuds/VintageManniqueen
Summary: Midge does as she pleases, with whomever she pleases, whenever she pleases. It's always worked out well for her, so long as she's pleased.
Relationships: Miriam "Midge" Maisel/OFC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	The Mysteries of Midge

There was that one time in college.

Well, it was more than that one time. 

...And, it was more than college. 

Eh, it was a few times here and there- a good house party, a few  _ very _ sensual kisses on display at Joel’s birthday party a few years ago back before the baby was born. Once or twice just for the fuck of it- no pun intended- and once or thrice because that chick was absolutey  _ stunning  _ and Midge wasn’t one to turn down decadance, nor the attention. 

Midge considered flirting to be an Olympic event. She relished in the mating dances of men, smiled and played along so long as they were funny, and succumbed gleefully to their wooing if they were just the right kind of  _ bawdy _ . Her own mating skills were a keen, finely hewn art form, born of her natural birthright and cultivated by her marriage-minded mother. Men were easy, and, as good as she looked, a dime per dozen, too. 

Now, in a girl, Midge liked a  _ girl _ . Something dainty and sweet with coiffed hair and layers of tulle. Something dripping in beauty and grace, and delicately fragrant- a poster girl for summertime at B Altman. She should be ardently enamored with Midge’s own glamour and wit much the same, and then a sly crack from a  _ beautiful _ mouth would be the final dash of salt in the recipe for Midge to  _ turn the corner.  _

A little blonde thing in sapphire blue attached herself to Midge’s post-show entourage one saucy night of the Tampa leg of the tour. A little laughter, a well-placed hand bejeweled in just the right kind of flashiness that Midge likes lead her to her real performance of the night: a simple kiss with a handsy grip and a ballsy smack, all in front the band and ⅔ of the liveliest nightlife in Florida. 

Susie was anxious that night- made to be on higher alert than usual by the division of her attention between Midge and Sophie Lennon. Guffaw and whistling bursting around Midge wasn’t exactly alarming to Susie, what with her propensity to get drunk and spout comedy, but also, Susie remembered, to show New York’s underbelly her tits while she does it. But Midge seemed to be clothed, and so Susie thought little of the after-hours uproar until she caught Midge flouncing around with a red blob smeared on the corner of her mouth, ultimately determined to be lipstick when it transferred onto the shot glass pressed to her lips. 

Ah, now how could she let her ward run around looking like that at an afterparty? They’d gotten too much bad photo press lately for that shit, she’d muttered to Midge, and wiped the smear with some fancyass napkin that would likely never recover.  _ Hadn’t Midge worn pink that night?  _ Susie wondered. She didn’t know much about cosmetics, but she did know Miriam Maisel, and that lipstick wasn’t in the carefully thought-out and paraded outfit she’d harassed Susie about all morning. 

But Midge was Midge, afterall. Social butterfly and life-of-the-party extraordinaire, Midge Maisel. God only knew where it had come from, most likely some stupid fucking rich people drinking game or a sloppily shared cigarette. Susie didn’t give a shit, just as long as Midge was clothed, coherent, and not spewing something irrevocable into the party hall. So, she decided she would do well to use the night by the bar wisely and talk business on the telephone with Sophie Lennon. Susie would be grateful for the hoity-toity hotel and its squeakless door hinges at 4AM when she would sneak into their room after a long berating by her least favorite client. 

At precisely 4:13 in the morning, the walloping tornado of charisma and frill that was Midge out of her mind for a while, Susie had forgotten about the mystery of the smudgy lipstick. She would have forgotten about it entirely and been a blissful, clueless schmuck for the rest of her life if not for the mystery of the green fabric puddle in the doorway. 

Her clue trail wasn’t long, and  _ damn _ , she’d apparently missed her calling as a Private I because she found the answer pretty quickly, there in the land of yellow teddy bears. It came in the sight of some fair-haired creature with its legs wrapped around Midge’s waist, and they were fused at the lips, yet giggling, and- oh, yep, that had definitely been two sets of tits in the moonlight. And so, Susie crept backwards through the door feeling both thoroughly dumbfounded and an odd sense of pride.

Like much Susie witnessed, they’d never speak of it.

Alas, it was her turn to sleep on the pool deck.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not above bribing someone to write Midge/Imogene or Midge/OFC. If you'd like to fit this role, shoot me a message.


End file.
